What Remains Unpoken
by Update
Summary: When you can't walk, you crawl, when you can't do that - " "You find someone to carry you." Done for the Friends That Carry You Challenge on hpff.


What Remains Unspoken

Godric had just been arrested. Again. Rowena leaned her forehead against the window and closed her eyes. They actually had proof this time, they said. They were going to convict him. But they said that every time.

Maybe it didn't matter; if the Purebloods' Council just kept arresting him, he wouldn't be able to teach anyway.

She could hear Helga moving around the kitchen, pans and utensils clattering in her wake. When bad things happened, Rowena worried. Helga cooked.

The number of times her cousin had been arrested, it was amazing she had any figure left at all

Rowena pushed her forehead harder against the cool glass, trying to wish her headache into submission. It didn't work.

She remembered the first time Godric had been arrested. It was almost a year ago, and they'd all been terrified. The first time had been the hardest, but also the easiest, because they'd thought that because he was innocent, he'd be set free. Now they all knew that it didn't matter whether he was innocent or not. In a pinch, keeping him away from the school was enough for the Council, but putting him away for good would be better. And if they actually managed to bring him to trial this time, she knew that he'd be convicted. Between a biased judge, a bribed jury, and fabricated evidence, he wouldn't have a chance.

And without Godric, Hogwarts would fall apart.

They'd tried not to think about that, Rowena and Helga both, tried to convince themselves that they could manage alone, but they both knew it was a lie. The school was Godric's dream, and that dream was the lifeblood of the place. Without him, it just didn't _work_.

She glanced sideways at their other partner. He didn't look particularly bothered. Salazar never looked particularly anything. He was reading. _Reading_. How he could even concentrate for more than a sentence right now was more than Rowena could comprehend.

"This is rot," she said clearly, startling herself. He looked up.

"Pardon?"

"It's _rot_," she said. "Puling, stinking, Devil-damned _rot_!"

Salazar stared at her.

"What _right_ have they to mess with our lives? To… to… ply their bigotry on all and sundry? It's not _right_! It's not _fair_!" She stopped, breathing quickly, half appalled with herself and half relieved that she'd finally _said_ it.

Salazar closed the book and placed it on the table beside him. He leaned back, cupping his hands behind his head. "If anybody ever told me life was fair, I'd be wanting an awful lot of money back," he said.

She stared at him for a moment, not sure whether he agreed with her or not, and then shrugged. It didn't matter.

"I don't suppose there's any way we could stop it going to court? If they don't get it to trial within a month, they have to let him go."

Salazar's mouth quirked. She knew what he was thinking. Like the last time, and the time before that and the time before that, and…

"We'd need someone on the Purebloods' Council to oppose it," he said. "Just one. They don't all have to agree to it, as long as everyone else is neutral, but if one person opposes it..."

"They have to let him go?"

"And they can't arrest him again unless it's the specific request of the person – or one of the people – who opposed the arrest in the first place. In theory."

"In theory?"

"None of them will oppose it," Salazar said. "They're all stubborn old men." He paused. "Except for Aliza."

Rowena's eyes widened. Salazar _never_ talked about his former betrothed, who had taken her father's place on the Council when he died. Godric said it was more about pride than heartbreak, but either way…

"And… and she's… not likely to oppose it, either?" she asked, trying to find away around the awkwardness threatening to smother her.

He shrugged. "Neutral, probably. She couldn't care less about things like this."

"Ah." Rowena tried to change the subject. "And your family's representative on the Council…?" All the pureblood families had one, she knew, but surely he would have done something earlier if it was his father or his brother.

"Is a second cousin once removed. He hates me because I put a frog in his bed when I was twelve after he said I would never amount to anything." He smiled a little at her hurriedly concealed shock, an unusual display of emotion. "The Slytherins are famous for being petty."

"Ouch," Rowena said, wincing.

"It could be worse. The Blacks are known for being psychotic."

Even knowing that Salazar didn't joke, she still had to examine his face for any trace of a jest. None.

Rowena sighed. "Well, if the court system is still backed up enough, we'll have him home in a month."

* * *

Even though she was stuffed, Rowena couldn't resist taking a small helping of the apple pie. It was as delicious as everything else, as always. Rowena knew for a fact that there were three more cooling in the pantry, along with a two meat pies and a berry crumble. Most of it would go to some of the needy in Hogsmeade; even with Godric home, they couldn't have eaten it all.

Although, with Godric home, there would be a lot less food.

There was a banging on the door. Rowena looked up, startled, as Helga rose from her chair to answer it. Salazar kept his eyes on his food.

A high pitched shriek of "_God-RIC_!" brought Rowena out of her seat and into the Entrance Hall with a speed she didn't know she possessed. She'd told herself not to hope, but she discovered now that herself hadn't listened. It was not disappointed.

Their missing friend stood on the doorstep of the castle, gently extricating himself from his cousin's embrace. He was thinner – he was _always_ thinner when they let him go – but his smile was large enough to eclipse the rest of his appearance.

"_What_? What are you doing here? _How_ are you doing here?" Rowena demanded, letting grammar go out the window in her excitement. "I mean… But it's only been two weeks! How did you..?"

She stopped, having thoroughly confused herself. Godric laughed. "Are you planning on letting me answer you?" When she kept quiet, he continued. "Apparently, someone on the Council got cold feet and objected to my arrest."

Relief shot through Rowena like a lightning bolt. _Someone on the Council got cold feet… They can't arrest him again unless it's the specific request of the person who opposed the arrest in the first place_…

She burst out laughing from sheer thankfulness. 'Are you _serious_?"

Helga looked at her in bemusement, but Godric just grinned more widely and passed her a piece of parchment. She scanned it eagerly. It was notarized and had been sealed by the Purebloods' Council. After all the meaningless legalese, one sentence stood out: _**Owing to the reservations harboured in this arrest by Councilmember A. W. Zabini, all charges have been permanently dropped.**_

The little there was after that wasn't important. Something about that line bothered Rowena, but she ignored it and passed the paper to Helga, feeling her mouth stretch into a smile.

"Congratulations," said a comparatively quiet voice from the door to the small dining room. "I'm glad we have you back." Rowena looked over at Salazar and what was wrong with the writ clicked into place. The usual term of address was Councilman, not Councilmember. If they weren't using that particular formality, it meant that it wasn't a Council_man_… A. W. Zabini. Aliza W. Zabini. But the only way…

She looked over at Salazar again. He _couldn't _have… not if he had any pride at all. It would be unthinkable for any man to make himself beholden to a woman who had scorned him, but for a pureblood… Even the ones who _weren't_ bigots (and there were few, which was why she occasionally forgot that Salazar _was_ pureblood) had pride so rigid you could use it to prop up bookshelves. It was _impossible_.

She might have dismissed it there, decided that Aliza Zabini was just a bit tender-hearted towards criminals, despite her attitude towards fiancés – but then she met Salazar's eyes.

He glared at her, a look so out of place on his usually impassive face that she actually took a step backward

_Don't you _dare_ tell,_ it said. _He doesn't need to know. Don't you dare._


End file.
